


Sway

by Xeranathus



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Romantic Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21647206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xeranathus/pseuds/Xeranathus
Summary: when winter's icy grasp sinks in, there's always fire to be lit on the dance floor. {julian/reader}
Relationships: Apprentice & Julian Devorak, Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak & You, Julian Devorak/Reader, Julian Devorak/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> partially inspired by the winter ball charms, partially inspired by tove styrke's "sway" (hence the title!).  
> this was my first time writing for julian, so I apologize if he seems a bit ooc at all. hope you enjoy! ♡

Music hummed in your ears, the soft crescendo of the tune made you feel like you were floating, high above the sea of partygoers and ballroom dancers that filled the large room. Your eyes, half-lidded to filter out the vibrant lights that hung in clusters from the ceiling, scanned the vicinity in one thorough sweep. Suddenly, your wandering eyes connected with familiar grey ones and a large grin spread across your face. You waved him over with an exaggerated urgency, thrilled to find a friendly face in the crowd. 

“My, (Y/N), fancy meeting you here!” Julian remarks upon strolling up to greet you, bowing in an all-but jesting manner. He extends one arm towards you with the other hidden behind his back, offering an icy blue flower in a grand gesture. It’s icicle-like petals seem to compliment his stunning features, bringing out the fiery undertones of his auburn hair in a stark contrast. You gingerly pluck the flower from his hand, taking note of the coldness of his skin as your hand brushes against his. The sudden physical contact doesn’t go unnoticed as he deflects his shock with a loud, uneven cough and a vain attempt to clear his throat. The blush on his cheeks only darkens in color, staining his face a deep crimson as he desperately clings on to what little bravado he can muster. 

You stifle a small giggle at his reaction, having no idea the affect your touch could have on him, and thank him for the flower. With no further distractions, your eyes slowly scan the man in front of you, taking in the beautiful details of his attire - from the delicately woven cream colored cape across his shoulders, the gold accents on it doing wonders against his complexion, to the poofy cravat on his neck that seemed to tie it all in. Unbeknownst to you, Julian was also marveling at your own getup, how the vibrant and rich color of it painted you in a light he had never seen before, didn’t know even existed. How the slick fabric seemed to hug you in all the right places, how eager he was to explore those places. His grey eyes widened in size when his gaze finally trails back to your face, the look on it one he found himself intrigued by, as he once again offers out his hand.

“(Y/N)…may I, uh, may I have this dance?” 

Curtsying, you enveloped your hand in his, feeling the rough texture of his palm and the slight shake in his fingers as they curled around your own. He pulls you to him forcefully, fluidly, like some magnetic force is connecting the two of you, unbreakable now that you’re within reach. There’s an unspoken agreement between you two as he takes charge, one lithe hand poised in the small of your back, grip so firm on your waist that you feel as if he’ll melt right into you. He bends you to the music, body swaying like a tree caught in an apocalyptic storm, ever in tune with whatever music is filling the air in this very moment, because said music is completely lost on you as the only thing you can hear is the erratic pulse of your own heartbeat in your ear. Julian’s grey eyes lock with yours as he dips you, gracefully, delicately, like you’re a fragile piece of porcelain and he’s terrified that if he lets go, all your shiny pieces will be splayed out on the floor. Then he pulls you back to him, like you’re his lifeline, before starting the sequence over again. This time, he lets you take lead. 

His long arms wind themselves around your back as you take command, obediently following your every step, every tiptoe, every movement — and it’s at this point in time that Julian decides for himself that he would follow you elsewhere, anywhere, everywhere, if you asked him to. Soon, too soon, the music comes to its final decline, slowing in rhythm before fizzling out entirely as the lights dim one by one. Groups of partygoers shuffle out of the darkened ballroom, some in pairs, others by themselves, until it’s just the two of you left in the now empty space. 

“(Y/N)—,” he starts before being abruptly interrupted by your fingers against his lips, successfully shushing him as you begin to lead again despite the apparent lack of music to dance to. “Sway with me, Julian. Just like this.” And he does, deciding that this time around, the only music needed was the contagious sound of your beautiful laughter as he watches you, transfixed, before tripping over his own feet.


End file.
